Metal and Magic: A Fantasy Journey

by Steve Windsor

  “If the army has come for us, the hospital will refuse us entrance. The doctors will act as if we are not there. No longer will they give us the medicines that he needs.”

  “We don't even speak the language, Pellen. We have no memories, no ties to that place.”

  “It is in our blood and in our souls,” I insisted. “We can learn to speak and grow our roots again, just as our grandparents did when they came here. If the army has truly come, if it is as the whisperings suggest, the motherland is the only place where we will be safe.”

  My wife said nothing more, for she knew that I spoke the truth, yet she would not admit to it, nor even consider my request. She turned her back to me and soon, I could hear the steady rhythm of her slumbers intertwined with Amyr’s breathing in and out.

  Chapter 7: Ailana

  Amyr had a spell just before morning. I heard him choking and thrashing in the depths of my sleep. Even if I hadn’t heard him, I would have awaken. I always knew when he was suffering. It was almost as if an alarm would begin to sound deep within my soul.

  “What is it?” Pellen mumbled, reaching for me as I stirred. The foolish man thought it was because of him that I had awakened, that I might want him now in the light of the early dawn.

  “Amyr,” I cried, slapping at my husband’s arms and rushing across the room to my child.

  He had gone still. If he was breathing, I couldn’t hear it. Laying my head upon his chest, I searched for the sound of his heart, willing for it to beat, begging it to stir.

  “Amyr!” Pellen yelled, now rushing to my side, trying to awaken the boy with the sound of his voice. “Amyr!”

  Pellen reached in the boy’s mouth, lest his tongue again be blocking his throat. Then, he slapped at my child’s face and his chest.

  My son coughed, his cheek red with the imprint of Pellen’s hand. His eyelids rolled back and in the dim light of the dawn, the boy’s eyes swirled with a thousand different colors.

  Amyr jolted a little, as if his heart had suddenly tripped again. He gasped, before heaving a long, heavy sigh.

  “I’m alright, Mama,” he whispered wearily, closing his brilliant eyes to this world. “I am here with you now. I am back again.”

  “My child,” I wept, now pulling his head to my breast, willing him to breathe, to live, and to grow. Would that he was still inside me, safe and protected in my womb, instead of in this harsh world in a body that fought to stay.

  “We have to do something,” Pellen declared angrily, as if there was a remedy we hadn’t tried. “We have to find a doctor who will help. There must be some kind of cure. In the motherland...”

  “No!” I shouted, causing Amyr’s eyes to fly open once again. “I will not go there. I will not take him across the ocean to certain death.”

  Pellen turned away. He went back to our blankets by the fire, which was only a small cluster of orange embers in the center of the hearth. He lay down and feigned sleep, although I knew he remained awake. His breathing was too strong, too determined, too filled with hate.

  “Go back to sleep, Mama.” Amyr pushed himself from me. Rolling over, his voice became muffled by his pillow. “There is nothing more which you can do tonight. Leave me be. I am so tired.”

  I abandoned my son to his wishes and returned to my husband’s side, my own heart filled with both grief and hate. I hated this life. I hated the cold morning air and the fire that was too weak to warm me. I hated the dawn for it meant that soon I would have to arise and once again, pick up my needles and thread.

  I hated my husband for his sad face, his bent back, his cowed demeanor, and most of all, his inability to heal my son and fix the wrongs in our tiny world.

  And, I hated my son. I hated his sickness, and the way his every breath controlled the beatings of my heart. I hated myself at the same time, for what mother would ever wish her child dead, especially when the child was so beautiful, so kind, and so extraordinarily good?

  “Ailana,” my cousin called, storming into my room that next morning, a fine man’s coat tossed over her arm. “The gentleman wants this today, and I have far too many others to do.”

  “And, you think I don’t?” I picked up a dress from my bundle and shook it in her direction.

  “Please Ailana!” Embo tossed the coat at me. It landed on the floor at my feet, kicking up a cloud of dust, lint, and stray threads before settling in a puddle. “Clean that before you return it to me.” She turned on heel and slammed the front door.

  “Kari-fa! How I hate the woman!” I swore, kicking the coat, which I most certainly would not do.

  I wouldn’t touch it. All morning I sewed the items in my basket, in between tending the fire, and seeing to the house. My child was fast asleep. Often when his night was so difficult, he would sleep all through one day and into the next, while I had no choice but to toil despite my fatigue.

  Pellen would return hungry from his shop and I had nothing to give him. Barely a cup was left of the bone soup, certainly not enough to feed three. My bread box was similarly empty with only a hard heel of black bread and a few crumbs of something green with mold.

  Pellen would eat it. He’d scrape off the mold and toast whatever remained over the fire, while giving the black bread heel to Amyr, who would savor it as if it was a delicacy.

  “Have some, Mama,” my good child would say, breaking the tiny piece in two. My sickly angel would share the last crumb even if it meant he would die instead.

  I would shake my head. “You need it more than I.” And, I would eat nothing, for I was healthy despite my lack of food.

  Embo might bring me a bit of dried fish later, in exchange for mending her gentleman’s coat. I might find a spare root in between my garden weeds, with which I could turn the two of them into a soup. The hunger never bothered me anymore. In fact, the memory alone of the large banquets at my grandmother’s table would turn my stomach inside out, or roil it with bile.

  Instead, I pushed those images from my mind and concentrated on my sewing, while listening for the steady intake of my child’s breath. In and out. In and out. He slept peacefully until the gunshots sounded in the distance. Heavy booms rocked the house as if thunder was directly overhead even though the day was clear and the sky empty, save a single forlorn cloud.

  My front door swung open, causing me to shriek with fright, but it was only Jan come running from next door.

  “They’re here!” my niece gasped breathlessly. “The neighbor says it is the Duke’s army come to take us from our village and enslave us in their work camps. We need to hide!”

  “Hide where? Hide how? How do you know this, child?” I tossed the sewing aside, glancing at Amyr, whose eyes were still heavily closed.

  “Everyone is running to the forest!” Jan jumped up and down like a petulant child, while the sounds of more guns echoed across the street. “Mama is packing us a bag. You best do it too. Five minutes, Mama says, and we must be gone.”

  A bag of what? I had nothing worth keeping other than the rags on my back, or this gentleman’s coat which I could wrap around Amyr. But, how could I carry him to the forest, and what of my husband? If the Duke’s army was truly here, Pellen might already be dead.

  “I can carry Amyr,” Jan offered, answering the question before it left my lips. “I have to hurry now to help Mama, but I’ll return and hoist him upon my back.”

  The door slammed again and still Amyr didn’t stir. Someone screamed in the alley, and I froze. I couldn’t run away to hide in the forest among the trees. I had lived like this once before, vowing never again to sleep where there was no roof above my head.

  Grandmother’s voice spoke, although only I could hear her in the back of my brain.

  “You are strong, Ailana. You are like me. You will fight and you will survive no matter the cost.”

  “What of my son, Grandmother?” I asked.

  Amyr coughed then, interrupting my silent conversation. At the same time, the fire crackled, a flame suddenly shooting upward, send
ing light and heat across the room.

  I tamped it down and rose to my feet, standing over Amyr on the couch. What of this child, this useless, sickly boy who was too weak to walk?

  If we stayed and the army came, surely they would kill him first. However, if I took him to the forest, his presence would weigh the others down. We’d have to carry him everywhere. He might have a spell and call out when we must be quiet. He might kill us all simply by trying to save his life.

  My son, my love, my heart was a burden and not worth the price of a village full of souls. Despite his beauty and his wit, he would never be what he had been intended.

  I could do him a favor and all of us, if I took his life now, here on the couch while he slept unaware. He would pass from this mad world and this bad time to a better place.

  I told myself this. I rationalized the murder of my beloved child, knowing full and well that I would have to live forever with this choice. But, would I rather see him slain by a gunshot, or waste away only to be eaten by the forest creatures? No. I would kill him now. I, who gave him life, would take it back.

  He stirred just then, his brilliant eyes flickering open as if he had heard my thoughts. He stared at me, all the colors of the rainbow shining upon my face.

  “I have no choice,” I wept, clutching the pillow with which I meant to quell his breath. “Go quietly, my love. Don’t make this more difficult than it is.”

  I pressed the pillow upon his face and with all my strength I held it fast. He was weak, his muscles small and unused. I did not expect him to fight me. I thought he would go limp and his chest to rattle with a final gasp. I did not expect my husband to race through the door and pull me away.

  “What are you doing, Ailana?” Pellen tossed me on the floor with a strength I never knew he had.

  “Leave him! Let him die! Pellen, please.”

  Pellen hastened to pull the boy upright and slapped at his face, bidding the child to wake again and breathe. Amyr made a noise, a small intake of breath, a moan and once again, a bright flame shot upward from the hearth.

  “No! Let him go!” I wept, although I knew not why. What sort of mother was I that begged for my own beloved child’s death?

  Jan called to us just then, bidding us to hurry before the army arrived on our street. As if in a dream, I watched my husband carry my son to the door.

  “Are you coming?” he demanded. “Get yourself up, Ailana. Let’s go.”

  I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. My legs refused to stand.

  “Fine. You stay. After what you have done to Amyr, you deserve to die.”

  “He would be better off dead!” I shouted. “All of us would be better off if he was dead. Admit it, Pellen. You have thought the same yourself.”

  “He’s our son. I will protect him with my life even if it means I shall draw my last breath.”

  “You will,” I declared with a foresight I didn’t know I had. “You don’t know who he is. You don’t know why he lives, or why he is here again.”

  This stopped Pellen in his tracks. Despite his haste to depart, he turned to me and demanded to know what I had meant.

  “Have you gone insane, Ailana? Of course, I know who is. He is our beloved son, conceived in marriage, conceived in love.”

  “No, you’re wrong,” I announced before Pellen slammed shut the door. “He was never conceived in love and neither was he ever your son.”

  Chapter 8: Jan

  “Where is Ailana?” my mother called to Pellen as he lifted Amyr through the hole in the fence. I was already waiting on the other side to catch him.

  “She is not coming.”

  “What?” my mother gasped, as I gazed at the others who crouched alongside the wall. Some were already sidling around the corner, or crawling through the bent path of overgrown grass. I was anxious to follow them, to run with them to the freedom that awaited, to begin an adventure outside our village and the only world I had known.

  Instead, I held out my arms for Amyr, hefting him upon my back, wrapping his legs around my waist, softly snorting and pawing the ground as if I was his horse. I had carried him like this before. His weight was not more than a basket of fish on a day that I had done well, and certainly, he was easier to carry and less smelly.

  “Hold tightly, cousin,” I called loping along after the crowd. “We’re going exploring in the woods. You are a great hunter and a brave warrior of our people, while I am your trusty and swift-footed steed.”

  “Doesn’t she understand what will happen if she stays?” my mother called to Uncle as he began to follow me. “Go back and fetch her. Implore her not to be a fool.”

  “I have already done so, but she is out of her head,” Pellen replied, prompting my mother to climb back through the fence herself. “You won’t be able to convince her, Embo. Save yourself. Don’t worry after her. I will use my energy to save my son. Give him to me, Jan. He is too heavy for you to carry long.” Coming up beside me, Uncle removed Amyr from my back.

  Suddenly alone, I hesitated, undecided if I should return to assist my mother and Auntie.

  “Stay here, Jan,” Uncle said, just as the bushes rustled beside me.

  “Hi!” that street boy, Dov called, a large grin spread across his face. “Are you coming?” He held out his hand.

  “To where?” I looked back at the hole in the fence.

  “The hideout, of course. This will be fun!”

  “Jan,” Uncle called again, just as loud voices began to shout. Their calls echoed off the buildings and were accompanied by that now familiar sound of heavy trucks.

  “Let’s go,” Dov cried, reaching for my hand. Though he was small, he was surprisingly strong as he pulled me into the woods, following Uncle and Amyr.

  “What of my mother? What of Auntie?”

  “Too late,” the boy said. “There is nothing to be done.”

  Although, my knees were weak and my feet stumbled on nearly every step. I let the child lead me as my mind went numb. How long our journey took, or how far we traveled beneath the canopy of the trees, I couldn’t begin to recount. All I knew was at the end, I fell into the safety of Pellen’s arms, surrounded by a few others from our village.

  It was already dark then, and cold, for no one would light a fire, lest it attract the army’s attention. Instead, throughout that first night, we huddled together in small groups, sheltered behind fallen logs and large tree trunks, or buried beneath moss and brush.

  It was not an adventure as I had hoped, but a long cold night in a dark hellish place. Every sound sent a spike of fear down my spine even if it was only the scampering of a squirrel across the limbs above us, or the whisper of a night owl’s wings.

  Sometime during the darkness, we heard the sound of footsteps trampling about the woods and the whispering of men’s voices as they passed by. Brush rustled as it was pushed aside and beams of light illuminated the trees above our heads. I didn’t breathe until they disappeared, and I didn’t move a muscle no matter how my limbs ached.

  I clutched tightly to Dov as if he was my own brother, for now, like him I was orphaned and alone. Next to me, Pellen held Amyr upon his lap, my cousin’s head laying tightly against his father’s chest.

  “Don’t be afraid,” my uncle murmured. “I will always protect you.”

  “I am not afraid,” Amyr whispered softly, his eyes hard and cold like the dark forest. “They can do nothing to me that hasn’t been done.”

  “We’re safe with Amyr,” Dov whispered beside me. “He’ll protect us.”

  Amyr? Protect us? My weak and sickly cousin?

  The street boy smiled and clasped my hand. “He always does.”

  In the morning, some wanted to walk again, while others thought it better if we remained hidden where we were.

  “Duke Korelesk’s army won’t stay in the village forever,” a woman assured us. “They’ll depart after they have looted our things.”

  “We need to walk westward,” a man disagreed. “It is not far to the ocean an
d from there we can build a boat. The motherland will welcome us. This country doesn’t want us anymore.”

  “We’ll die in the transit,” a third declared. “Who here can walk all the way to the ocean? We are already nothing more than skin and bones from lack of food. And, if we were to get there, who here can build a boat to cross it? We haven’t a stick of wood or a nail to fasten it together. The ocean is enormous, the water a cruel master, and the wind, his mistress.”

  “We have no choice,” my uncle Pellen interrupted. “The motherland is the only place where we will be safe.”

  “I have a boat,” I almost announced, but Dov tugged my hand sharply and bid me to be quiet.

  “Your boat won’t fit everyone here,” he hissed. “It will only be enough for you and I, your uncle and cousin.”

  “My mother and Auntie?”

  Dov shook his head. “The Duke’s army has taken them away. That’s what they do in every village. Or, they kill them.” His voice went soft, as if he wished to bite back the words, to save me from their meaning.

  “Is that what happened to your parents?”

  “Mhm. But, I came here.” He squeezed my hand again as if to show he had done this all for me.

  Pellen and the other adults argued back and forth while the sun rose above the treetops. Odd rays of light shone down through the forest, illuminating the brush like a torch from another world.

  The light almost seemed to make a staircase to the outer space where my brother lived. I imagined Taul stepping into those golden beams and magically, rising upward to the stars. From there, he would board a ship that would take him to a warm and happy planet. Or, he might live there on that ship, sailing from star to star as I dreamed of sailing upon the sea, both of us searching for a place we would be safe.

  “Jan,” Pellen whispered while the other villagers continued to argue. “Where is your boat now? Do you think we can sneak over to it tonight?”

  I turned to my uncle, to tell him I thought so, when instead, my eyes were drawn to my cousin’s face. Amyr had his chin tipped upward and his eyes were open as if he was staring at the sun. Their color was as silver as the rays, echoing the light which seemed to circle about his body like a shimmering aura.